The Fellowship of the Ring: One of Many Discontinued
by Vicky Maybell
Summary: Galadriel Bellflower didn't know much of her origins, or of the world outside of Bree. Not only is the life of Frodo Baggins placed it into her palm, she also has the chance to learn what she had lost. Could she fair well with the duties that have been dumped on a plain former barmaid? Or will the destruction of her be written in the history books?
1. Chapter 1

_Alive without breath;_

_As cold as death;_

_Never thirsting, ever drinking;_

_Clad in mail, never clinking._

_**-taken directly from Lord of the Rings Sketchbook, Alan Lee**_

A woman sat in a tiny room; endlessly spinning wool for that of her poor family. She did not share their name having been disowned and all but yet she worked throughout the day and night to provide for them.

She had been allowed an hour rest considering it had been her birthday. An hour rest was all she received each year from her very boring chores. Had she been a hobbit, which she wishes she was born as, she'd most likely enjoy her work. She would work in the field or so chugging along her ale-… There is no use thinking of it, though. She'll forever be stuck in the cellar of the Prancing Pony spinning or ascending the stairs to serve ale to customers.

"Galadriel," a man called from the door, "get yer' ass up here and serve. We've got customers!"

Speaking of hard labor.

Galadriel Bellflower trudged up the slimy steps from her cellar and emerged into the loud and crowded bar of the Prancing Pony. Drunks gulped down their piss ale and women shimmied up their skirts for arriving customers. The Prancing Pony wasn't usually this loud or robust.

Galadriel made her way to a table of four hobbits, something she doesn't see much in these parts. It made her giddy about a day of work; really it did. Something about hobbits made her blood rush and the memory of a tale she had heard long ago from her late mother, one of Bilbo Baggins. She begged her mother to teach her how to fight and she did. Her father downright disowned her once her mother passed, however, and wild tales of battle hungry hobbits was long thrown into the cellar with her.

"How could I help you fine gents?" Galadriel stood at the table of the hobbits, observing them closely. Two seemed very giddyish to be in such a place, while one seemed morbid and the other paranoid.

"Could we get four pints, missy? Go on, hike up that skirt of yours and hurry." One of the giddy ones said with an exaggerated drawl and she rolled her eyes; so much for 'manners' these days, something you'd think you would find in a hobbit. As she turned to grab their pints, the hobbit with sparkling eyes (or whom she had dubbed the morbid one) reached out and gently tugged her sleeve.

"Um, miss, could you find Gandalf and tell him I've arrived?" He asked and Galadriel scrunched up her nose. A hobbit asking for a Gandalf would be named a Baggins, apparently, or a hobbit looking for the fortune of a Baggins, hoping he'd find it in the wizard.

"Haven't seen a Gandalf in a long time, six months if I can tap into the head of my dear ol' dad." She replied and his face fell. She fetched them their pints and hung around for a second, watching them with wide eyes and one gulped down his piss drink.

"Other than this moon eyed woman," the blonde one leaned forward to the other and refused to fully acknowledge her, "that fellow has done nothing but stare since you've arrived." He pointed to a cloaked man in the corner.

"His name is Strider," Galadriel quickly explained, catching the attention of them both, "a ranger of the wilds, y'know? He's been for a while; he has, and talked to three people the other day. An elf, a dwarf, and a human if my eyes don't deceive me."

"What kind of fellow would talk to them?" The blonde asked and she shrugged.

"A bounty hunter, maybe, or someone just looking for a good time, though I doubt that prostitutes travel in hordes."

The giddy couple almost spit up their pints in laughter and Galadriel joined in a hearty laugh until her father yelled for her to get a move on to the cellar. She stared at him with disdain until he struggled down from his stool, drunk off his own stock.

"Mind if you ask me to sit down?" Galadriel asked with a pleading tone. The sparkly eyed one shrugged and motioned with a hand and she plopped down on the remaining space of the seat. Her father would never intervene when a promising patron asks for his daughter to sit at their table; oh no. He hobbled back to his chair, mumbling profanities.

The four talked (excluding sparkly eyes, who stared ahead in silence) about simple things. Galadriel often excitedly asked about the Shire, and they told her all about the serene farms and small houses. They didn't mind to introduce themselves, quickly changing the subject when she asked their names. One soon joined the fellows at the bar, leaving the three to talk more of the only thing she was interested in; hobbits.

Over time Sparkly Eyes seemed to slowly close his eyes, not alarming those at the table until his eyes snapped open and he jumped up at the mention of something.

"You alright there y-"Galadriel began but he raced over to the bar. In a matter of mere seconds he began to fall, then suddenly disappearing. She jumped up with surprise and the young blonde gently pushed passed her.

"WHERE'D HE GO?" Someone yelped and patrons rushed out of the bar, hoping that the cool rain could wash away their drunkenness and when they'd return it would only be their drunken imaginations. When the crowd cleared she could no longer see the boy (not surprising considering he became invisible the second earlier) but rather the hobbits racing up the stairs.

_Adventure, _the word almost whispered to her. She grabbed a bottle and raced up after them silently, sneaking behind them with keen interest. They burst into a room that she recognized as Striders, as she rented the room out to him the week before.

Galadriel snuck past the door, waiting on the shoulder of it, straining to hear voices through the closed door. She heard nothing however, and huffed in disappointment internally. The muffled, unintelligible mumbles came closer and she raced down the hallway, grabbing a broom and pretended to sweep. The door creaked open and the four disheveled hobbits emerged, running fingers through their unmanageable hair. They spotted her idly sweeping and Sparkly Eyes reached for his coin bag.

"We'd like to rent a room, miss." He said and she shrugged with feigned disinterest.

"Alright."

* * *

Galadriel slept soundly in her room, dreaming of sweet serene things. Behind her eyes she danced in the sunlight with that of the archetypal Galadriel, whom she was named after. The woman whispered sweet words to her and advice in which boosted her for the next day of work. The elder Galadriel was meant to come in dire times, but the current one believed she dreamt of her as an escape.

A pounding on her door awoke her, and she climbed up the steps with the words of profanities about drunken men wandering the wrong door. Behind her door, however, stood the ranger and the four hobbits.

"We'd like to pay for the room." The ranger said slowly, toying with his pipe. Galadriel sighed and closed the door behind her, walking to the desk in which a book lay. She grunted as she pulled it out and set it on the desk (it wasn't a light book, mind you), flipping to the pages until she landed on the name Underhill. Galadriel raised her eyebrow questioningly, as Underhill wasn't a common hobbit name (something she would know well) but didn't ask questions.

She let them stand there anxiously while she filed the last booking arrangement, slowly counting their coin to toy with them. Her eyes looked at them from beneath her hair, observing them as they trembled a little. She was also swallowing her bravery to ask a question any girl would want to ask, so she was in no place to chuckle.

Galadriel slammed the book shut and slid the coins into a safe drawer, locking it tight after she slid it back into its place. She gulped a little before looking up.

"I could get a horse, you know." She mumbled and the ranger leaned forward a little. She could make out a ruggedly handsome man under his hood, causing her to blush wildly. Any woman would, so don't go _judging _her.

"You could, now could you? Well, I'd assume we'd need only one or two. At what coin?" 'Strider' asked, pulling out a coin bag. Galadriel wildly shook her head.

"N-n-no coin n-needed, s-sir," She stammered, "only a p-passage." He slowly put his coin bag away and stared at her with a hard look. She gulped under his glare and shrunk back into her seat.

"A passage, you say?"

"I c-c-ould get you a horse if you took me with you. You're obviously a-a-adventurers, like in the tales." She admitted and he let out a booming laugh, causing some remaining patrons to glance at him for only a moment before returning to their ale.

"I doubt this is your business. Now, please, just tell me how much a horse would cost."

"A passage." She said a little boldly and his face lost its humor. The hobbits shrunk away as he leaned forward and put both hands on either side of the desk, glooming over the girl.

"How could you be of any use? A simple barmaid like you couldn't last in the _wilds._" 'Strider' said in a low voice and the blonde 'barmaid' sat up a little straighter.

"I'll have you know that I have skill. Daggers and sneak, you see. I have my own daggers, and some armor my mum left." Galadriel said and he raised an eyebrow.

"I would not have the blood of a simple girl on my hands, now be off with you."

"Do you expect four hobbits to carry your luggage? Would you rather have your journey be longer because two," she glanced at the giddy ones," managed to…slip?"

This 'Strider' fellow became quiet and she smirked, leaning forward and whispering, "a little adventure is all I ask."

* * *

Galadriel flew down the cellar stairs and grabbed essentials like her leather armor and daggers. She stuffed few books into her bag, those of plants or foreign languages. A locket swung from her door and she stopped to glance at it. Her mother gave it to her before she went out for special herbs in the wilds, a trip she never came back from.

"Ready to go on one last adventure, mum?" Galadriel whispered and clasped it on her neck, letting the colored pendant slam her chest before bounding up the stairs and into the streets where a ranger, four hobbits, and two horses waited.

**Oi, there be the first chapter of One of Many. Did I rush it? Was it bad? Should I make longer chapters? I've discarded so many projects but since I have all three movies (plus special content discs) I had thought I could pull this one through. Please give me suggestions and if any of you wish 'shipping', I could consider it. I've always liked Orlando Bloom, y'know… Also Bellflower is an actual Bree household, though I made up that the father was the owner of the Prancing Pony. I got the name from the Rowlie Appledore quest in WITN, where he makes your character announce his love for Idona Bellflower. **


	2. Chapter 2

Galadriel struggled on her house as four curious Hobbits peered at her, little grins on their perky faces. Strider glanced back with scorn. Why had a simple barmaid bragged about her skills, he thought, and then just utterly fail at mounting a horse? They hadn't even needed two, leaving one behind and using the other for supplies and apparently for miss diva.

Strider watched as she slowly started to tip sideways, looking forward with an exasperated expression as she literally almost slipped under the horse before one, Sam, rushed to help her. Galadriel brushed herself on and rather walked beside the horse, something she didn't want to do half an hour ago.

"I thought you had skill!" Merry jeered, and Pippin joined in with a "Silly girl!" before they nearly jested themselves into a coma. Frodo gave her an apologetic look before rejoining Sam in their simultaneous walking. It was all Merry and Pippin, or Frodo and Sam.

"Says you two fools! Now, would you mind actually introducing yourselves? You'd think I'd ask earlier, but I seem to have forgotten."

"I'm Frodo; this is Sam, Merry, and Pippin." Sparkly eyes gestured to each Hobbit with their proper names.

"Silly barmaid, why ask for an 'adventure' with strangers? Didn't your mother ever teach you stranger-danger?" Strider grumbled, kicking a rock from his way. Away from his vision, Galadriel shot daggers with her eyes. He could of have sworn he heard her swear under her breath in Elvish, but shrugged it off as the possibility of a Bree resident knowing Elvish was very slim.

"My mother was none to safe, herself."

"Could she ride a horse?" He continued with the insults. Merry and Pippin didn't mean to laugh in favor of the poor girl's feelings, but they did anyway.

"I manage the horses, the money made from them. I wasn't allowed to ride, and neither was my mother when she married my old testy of a dad."

Strider shook his head and they continued along the path. Galadriel bit her thumb nail and kept her head down. Frodo looked between them, and then coughed.

"So, what is your name?" He asked, hoping to ease the tension. She looked at him and smiled behind her thumb.

"Galadriel of no name." She said and Sam stopped.

"No name?" Sam asked out of curiosity. Galadriel tucked a piece of blonde hair behind her ear.

"Galadriel Bellflower, if you wish. My dad always wanted to disown me as a kid for a reason I still yet to hear, but my mum wouldn't have it. When she died though, he did so and forced me to spin wool or give booze to lazy bar patrons."

"Oh." Sam said, apologetic that he made her confess that. Galadriel waved her hand as if it was no matter, and it wasn't to her. Bree knew of her troubles, and when they didn't care she didn't hide it. Pippin and Merry soon turned a little antsy, waving the horse over. All four Hobbits flooded on it, starting to grab food and canteens. Galadriel sneaked an apple into her bag, considering her old leather armor **(oh I hate author's notes in the middle of paragraphs but I'll note that her armor looks like Leather Rogue armor from Dragon Age Origins. Okay, continue reading, sorry!) **had no pockets.

Strider turned at the sound of their ruffling and stopped all together.

"Gentlemen, we do not stop till nightfall." He said, deciding against putting a hand on his hip so he would seem more threatening than humorous.

"What about breakfast?" Pippin asked, and Merry nodded beside him again reaching for the bags.

"You've already had it." Strider reminded them.

"We've had one, yes," Pippin began, "but what about second breakfast?" Galadriel's eyes brightened. Strider silently turned around and started forward again.

"Don't think he knows about second breakfast, Pip."

"How much do you Hobbits eat?" Galadriel asked with a sigh of curiosity. Pippin looked up to her and opened his arms wide.

"We have elevenses! Luncheons! We've also got afternoon tea, dinner, supper, and desert! Even late night snacks! This lad doesn't know about them, does he?"

"I don't suppose so," she giggled with her wide wondering eyes. Merry shook his head and shouldered Pippin. An apple came sailing down to him, and he smiled before continuing on. Galadriel snuck the twin apple from her pocket and took a bite. An apple came to Pippin as well, but only smacking him in the face as the two hobbits and female human laughed on. Both his apples landed in the mud, and Galadriel smiled before sneaking her apple in his hands, walking on and not looking at his smirky expression.

**Page Break**

Galadriel rested upon her ragged blanket on the hard stone, looking towards the streaked sky. The Hobbits crashed down beside her, and before they could say as so much a simple snarky remark about the customer service Galadriel curled herself up in her blanket and rested her eyes, listening as drops of water splashed around her. Strider suggested they stay the night at the old place, or the watcher tower of Arnon Sol.

Soon enough her breath became labored and she was asleep, dreaming of the first Galadriel once again. She admitted she didn't know much of the elven Galadriel, as her mother only told bits of pieces or even changed the subject when she brought up the origins of her name. The tall elven woman still whispered to her, nonetheless, easing the girl of anything that troubled her.

Sounds of hushed yelling and hisses awoke her, and she opened her eyes to see Frodo furiously stomping out a fire. Four pairs of feet scurried past her sight and she sat up, placing a hand against her forehead as her tired eyes struggled to comprehend.

"Was' goin' on boys?" She murmured. Sam turned and pulled her up rather harshly, holding a dagger she didn't know he had. Sensing the danger, Galadriel grabbed her own daggers from her blanket and followed the hobbits as they rushed up the watchtower steps.

They emerged onto the top, bathed in moonlight and cold wind. Galadriel struggled to catch her breath. The Hobbits huddled together, daggers drawn, and she nodded before drawing her own. She felt her blood flowing in her ears and her eyes watering, the suspense of danger keeping her on her nearly hysterical toes.

Galadriel saw the Hobbits turn in awe, and when she did she gasped and nearly fell to the stone. Before her was what Strider would call a Nazgûl, or a Black Rider. More appeared in her peripheral vision, boring deep into her mind and causing a great feeling of fear.

Cornering them and pushing them backwards, the five slowly moved, not wanting to provoke an instantaneous death. Sam and Frodo linked hands, as well as Merry and Pippin. Galadriel clutched the shoulder of Frodo so forcefully that her nails sunk into him.

"Back, you devils!" Sam suddenly charged and joined swords with one of the Nine, thrown back into an old forgotten pillar. The remaining four stood still in shock and two were left when Merry and Pippin pushed to the side. One Black Rider leaned into the face of Galadriel, observing her, before throwing her back and over to Sam.

"Sam," she croaked but her head dropped to the side. Sam looked at her with hazy eyes. They both heard the pathetic wail of Frodo, and Sam disappeared from her, rushing over to the wounded Halfling.

Galadriel struggled to stand, waving her dagger blindly before her eyes rolled back into her head and darkness greeted her.

**Page Break**

When her mind cleared, Galadriel found herself practically being dragged by Pippin and Merry through the forest, twigs snapping in her face. She could see Frodo on the shoulder of Strider and Sam running along with surprising speed.

They ran for another half an hour before Strider lowered Frodo to the forest floor, standing up and cursing. Galadriel rested against a rock, her mind swimming.

"Mr. Frodo? He's going cold!" Sam said with worry. Galadriel almost jolted up, worried about Frodo, before she went down to her knees and gasped for breath. Merry rubbed her back when she began to throw up behind a bush.

"Is he going to die?" Pippin asked.

"He's passing into the Shadow World, to become a wraith like them." Strider said grimly, and stood back as Galadriel struggled to stand upright.

"That's not…right," she teetered, "we have to help."

"I suspect Galadriel here is sick as well, not just from being thrown." Strider said as he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. Galadriel bent over again and began retching. Among her sick vocals, they heard the screeches and Strider strode to Sam, yanking him up.

"Sam, do you know the Athelas plant?" He asked, and Sam shook his head.

"It's a lot like Kingsfoil. I think it _is _Kingsfoil if I can remember from my mum's books." The sick girl mumbled from the rock.

"She's right, and it may help to stop the poisoning. Quick, see if you can find it." Strider ordered and Sam nodded before they both disappeared into the bushes. Pippin leaned down by Galadriel, who sunk into the grass.

"You alright, lass?" He asked.

"I've had concussions before…this doesn't feel," she coughed, "like one of those. What's wrong with Frodo?"

"The ranger said he's been stabbed by a certain blade. He'll be a wraith soon."

"I caught that part." She wheezed before closing her eyes and thumping her head down back to the grass. Merry tended to her while Pippin checked on Frodo. The sudden thumps of a horse's hooves startled them all, and they watched as an Elven woman ran over and kneeled beside Frodo.

"Who is she?" Merry asked. When the woman started examining Frodo, Sam whispered that she was an elf and Merry nodded.

"He's fading," the elf touched his stab wound and he gasped, "he's not going to last. We must get him to my father."

Strider and the elven woman carried him to what they suspected was her horse. Both Merry and a disheveled Galadriel cried voices of concern on where they were taking him. They both started murmuring in Elvish and Galadriel sat up.

"Why can't we all go?" Galadriel asked and the Elvish woman paused before walking over and kneeling beside her.

"Excuse me?" She asked, examining her sickness.

"You said you'll take him…why can't we all-"She slumped over and convulsed a little. The elf stood up and called for Strider to carry the girl to the horse.

"It seems you've picked up a treasure." She told Strider as he hoisted her on the horse.

"I had no idea she spoke Elvish. She was just some barmaid wanting to go outside of Bree." He shrugged and the elf smiled.

"Well, whatever the case is she's almost as sick as Frodo, but it doesn't seem she's changing at all. Was she stabbed?" She asked the hobbits and Sam shook his head. The elf climbed on to her horse behind the two victims and looked down to the ranger.

"Arwen, ride hard. Don't look back."

**Page Break**

When Galadriel awoke, she still felt sick but noticed that the sun was shining and her surroundings were different. She turned her head slightly and noticed that she was slumping against Frodo and that she was on a horse.

_Do not be afraid and do not look up, _Arwen said to her in Elvish.

_Do you understand only Elvish? _Galadriel asked.

"No, my dear girl," she said normally, "I speak many languages. But be quiet, for the Nine follow us."

Galadriel gasped and squirmed but Arwen quickly reminded her not to move. They suddenly both heard the screeches of the Black Rider's steed.

_Please, do not cry. It is very distracting._

Galadriel turned her head into Frodo's shoulder and tried to contain her shuddering breaths. They were not of fear and rather of the burning, bubbling sensation deep within her stomach. She felt water splashing her ankles and she peaked from his shoulder to see they were crossing water, the Black Riders close behind. When they crossed the other side, Arwen looked back to the Riders whose steed was whining at the water and refusing to cross.

"If you want him," Arwen unsheathed her sword at a voice Galadriel did not hear, "come and claim him."

The sound of rushing water alarmed the Riders as it claimed them and their horses. Galadriel struggled off the horse and to the ground, coughing blood up and letting it drip to the Earth. Arwen dismounted and rested a hand on her shoulder, but before Galadriel could thank her she heard the elf woman gasping to Frodo. She lowered him to the ground beside the coughing woman and began crying.

"Frodo, no," Arwen gasped, "Do not give in. Not now!" She hugged the trembling hobbit to her breast and wept, rocking back and forth. Galadriel paid no attention as she rested on her back, closing her eyes to the forest around her.

**Page Break**

When Galadriel woke the third time, her room was strange and no faces greeted her from her sickly slumber. She sat up in her bed and did not recognize the white dress that donned her. She slipped from the cot and stretched her sore limbs, smiling at the cracks that sent endorphins to her weary mind.

"You're awake," a young woman strode into the room, "I had all but suspected the worse for you."

"Arwen, am I correct?" Galadriel asked.

_Yes. Now, if you may, could you walk with me? I have questions for you._

Galadriel nodded before straightening out her dress. She and Arwen walked to the gardens, and Galadriel gasped that the buildings were exactly the same in which her mother drew in one of the books she brought.

_That pendant is very familiar, you see._

Galadriel glanced to the pendent that hung from her neck. It was a bow to an arrow wrapped in vines and leaves, dipped in gold. Her mother gave it to her before she died, saying her mother did the same and so on until it reached from years to her great-great something grandmother.

_It was my mothers, _she responded and Arwen nodded.

_I know. I have no place in speaking to you of your origins, but would it comfort you to know that your mother and I were friends?_

_ You were?_

_ Oh, dear ones indeed. I suppose she is the one who taught you to speak Elvish. Am I correct?_

Galadriel nodded shyly and Arwen laughed.

_Would you like to see her? Her belongings?_

_ See her? What do you mean?_

` Arwen led Galadriel up a case of winding stairs, the architecture of the railing fascinating her. They came unto a hallway, where Arwen led her into a room that appeared as her bed chamber. She opened a chest (that she slid from under her bed) and waved Galadriel over.

Inside the chest was a whole collection that apparently belonged to her mother. There was armor similar to the kind Galadriel was wearing, except it was blue with gold lines weaving through it. There were also boots with the same design, twin daggers laid beside it. Arwen pulled them out and placed them beside the kneeling women. She pulled out many more things, like trinket rings and a long white robe that looked like a dress. However, the next thing that left the chest caused a great sigh of admiration to breathe from both Arwen and Galadriel.

"She was beautiful." Galadriel said as she held a small portrait in her hand. It was a painting of few people (two humans and three elves, one of them being Arwen), but her mother stood out. She was wearing the armor from the chest, her hair pinned up with blonde strands gliding down her neck, her slender hands clutching the daggers. But what struck Galadriel breathless once again was that her mother was wearing her pendent.

"Yes, she was indeed. You look a lot like her. That struck me when I first saw you, hunched over and puking your little guts out." Arwen smiled and Galadriel blushed.

"Who healed me?" She asked.

"My father was busy tending to the Hobbit, Frodo. Another and I healed you. You may have not been conscious enough to realize that you were stabbed by a blade of Morgul. It was strange, we didn't sense you fading as Frodo was. I believe it was that pendent of yours."

"My pendent saved me?" Galadriel asked and Arwen nodded.

"It protected by a magical barrier, in a way. It wouldn't stop one from being injured but it would protect them from poisons, jinxes, or in your case; taints."

Galadriel let out a long sigh and Arwen stood, resting a hand down on her shoulder.

"I'll leave you to sort through this. There is more there." Arwen said and began for the door, but Galadriel called her back.

"What is this?" Galadriel asked, holding up the white robe/dress/thing. Arwen let out a small little laugh.

"Mithril, my dear. Not many have own one, but it's light as a feather and hard as stone. I believe the only other to own one here is Bilbo Baggins."

"Bilbo Baggins? My mother told me many stories of him! He's one of my heroes!" Galadriel squealed. Arwen laughed again with that tinkling sound that made any soul warmer.

"Your mother was a fan herself, always going on about adventurers or Bilbo. It's sad that she never got to meet him before her early death."

Arwen left Galadriel to her thoughts, shutting the door gently behind her. Galadriel gazed at the armor before stripping from her own and putting it on, slipping on the boots and adding the daggers to her belt. After slipping the few trinkets into her pouch, she placed the painting on the table near Arwen's bedside.

"Galadriel?" She heard her voice being called and she turned around to Pippin who peered at her from the corner of the door. She quickly shut the chest and slid it back under Arwen's bed.

"Can I help you, Pippin?" She asked.

"Are you stealing' her stuff?" He asked and Galadriel laughed before standing and walking to him.

"If I was stealing, do you think I'd let myself be caught?" She said, cupping his little cheek before playfully smacking it.

"I guess not, Miss." Pippin mumbled.

"Now, would you mind leading me to wherever food is being served? I find myself hungry, and you could show me how the Hobbits eat."

**Oh yay! Happy ending to this chapter. Oh, you have NO idea on what I'm planning for this story. Please, review and favorite! It doesn't hurt. A lot. Maybe it does, maybe it doesn't. Also, if anyone can tell me how to have my tabs appear in the story, please help. Each paragraph has a tab space in Word but when I transfer it they don't appear.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

Galadriel was walking the gardens when a blonde elf caught her attention. He sat on one of the carved benches, carefully cleaning the arrows to his bow. She hid behind the tree and gazed at him, admiring the handsome features that many elves around her had.

He worked slowly, carefully fixing any scratches or flaws that adorned either an arrow or a bow. His arms flexed slowly under his sleeves, and Galadriel could find herself swooning over his very attractive face. He had long blonde hair that tied back and braided behind his pointy ears, allowing the rest to flow down his back.

"Admiring my work, are you?" He called, still looking down at his arrow. Galadriel held her breath and closed her eyes.

"My observation skills are not disregarded, lass. Do not hide from me." The elf put the bow back to its bag and peered at the tree in which Galadriel was hiding. She slowly came from around it, nervously wringing her hands.

"May I help you?" He asked and she tried to close her mouth before nonsense poured out, but to no avail.

"I was simply admiring your…um...work." She stuttered out, and he chuckled.

"Of course you were. Would you care to join me?" He asked and moved the bow for her to sit.

"Oh, oh, um…I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"I don't mind."

"Okay." Galadriel squeaked. She sat beside him, smoothing her dress and nervously fixing her hair. The elf returned to his work and she watched with curious eyes.

"If I may ask, what is your name?" He asked.

"I am Galadriel."

"Named after the powerful elf? How meaning-worthy." He jested and she scowled.

"Oh, and if your names is so great maybe you should tell me it and I'll come up with something rude to say." Galadriel huffed.

"Relax, woman. I was only poking at you. My name is Legolas." Legolas looked at her face and extended his hand, but paused when his eyes landed on her pendant.

"Where did you get that?" He sighed, his fingers flittering over it but not touching it. Galadriel smiled and unclipped it, letting it pool in his hand. Legolas lifted it to the light and after a few quiet moments he handed it back to her.

"If you don't mind, I must attend pressing matters. Elrond requested my presence. Are you here for the meeting?" Legolas asked and Galadriel smirked.

"Does it concern the ring that Frodo carries?"

"Indeed it does."

"I wasn't invited until now." She stood and left Legolas to contemplate her answer, before an 'oops-I've-made-a-mistake' expression took his face.

* * *

Deep from her sleep, Galadriel shot up from under her soft covers. She had heard something crash. The darkness from her balcony suggested it was night, chilly wind eliciting goose bumps on her arms. She squinted in the dark and struggled to see.

_Arwen?_

There was no response and Galadriel kicked the covers away and stood up. None of her lanterns were lit but her vision was adapting to the darkness. The person was nowhere to be seen.

"Frodo, may it be you, take off that ring."

There was still no response. Galadriel huffed in aggravation and began to climb under her covers when a large amount of weight pressed on her. She was pinned to the cold floor. Both persons began to cry in fright. She finally managed to push _it _off her when she realized it was invisible. She fumbled over the clear body, until she found what would be a hand and yanked, successfully pulling the gold ring from a trembling Frodo. He didn't seem to be awake, and was crying in what would be his sleep.

Galadriel began poking and pushing him, and when he wouldn't wake up she bent down and began to carry him like a child; straddling the crying hobbit to her hip. She slipped the ring into his pocket.

She carried him around the hallways and once around the garden, looking for any sign of the hobbit's dwelling. At one point she met a lantern, and eagerly followed it in the darkness until she came upon no other than Bilbo Baggins himself.

"Mr. Baggins? Are you alright?" She asked and the aged man turned to her, his eyebrows shooting up at the sight of a girl in her night-clothes carrying his nephew.

"Ah! I see you've found him. Disappeared from the room, you see. How did you manage to find him?" Bilbo asked and Galadriel struggled to keep her excitement hidden. She was talking to _the _Bilbo Baggins!

"Oh, he was stumbling around quite noisily. Would you like me to carry him back for you?" She asked and the small man nodded, motioning for her to follow him. They traveled through a few houses, bumping into elves and a very moody man who almost knocked the sleeping Frodo from Galadriel's hip.

Bilbo pushed the door to Frodo's room open, waving a hand to his bed where Galadriel tucked him in like a child. When she straightened up and turned around, Bilbo was holding a book out to her.

"What's this?" She asked as she took it into her hands. The book was a little heavy, too heavy for a small book.

"It's a book I've written. I've made a few copies, so you taking one as a sign of my gratitude for finding Frodo won't leave a dent in any inventory."

Galadriel let out a small gasp and thumbed through it, her wide eyes absorbing the information inside.

"I am very grateful, Baggins sir. My mother was a fan of you, and so am I."

"I've a fan base?"

"You do sir, indeed." Galadriel said. Bilbo quietly sipped his drink and she found this the moment to excuse herself. He nodded at her when she bid a good night, and she raced down the hall gleefully squealing, the book clutched to her chest.

Galadriel slept sound for another few hours, awoken again when Pippin crashed into her room drunk off elven brew and tried to climb into her bed, childishly claiming it his own. Merry joined him, and they slept soundly in her warm hospitality while she grumbled on the floor, only a blanket to protect her from the cold night breeze.

* * *

"DID YOU BED ME?" A shrill voice popped the bubble that was Galadriel's dreams. Her eyes slowly opened and the sight of the floor greeted her. Lovely.

"DID I BED YOU? YOU MEAN DID YOU BED ME, YOU GIT!" Pippin screeched. Galadriel kicked away her flimsy blanket and stood, bringing her hands down repeatedly on the hobbits, occasionally smacking them in the face while she aimed for the torso.

"You rambunctious little scoundrels! Slipping into my bed at the late of night, drunk off your furry asses. Think before you drink, or next time you stumble upon my cot I will skin you both! Do you understand?" Galadriel said, not caring that her voice carried around Rivendell.

When her hands stopped their attack, the two hobbits stared at her for a few moments before smiling with a hint of cockiness.

"So we both bedded you?" Merry asked, Pippin wiggling his eyebrows. A low growl emitted from her.

"OUT!" She screeched and they jumped, running for their lives and out the door. Galadriel sat back on her bed, smoothing back her hair and clasping her pendant to her neck. A little knock at her door made her jump, though only Arwen glided in.

_Are they always such pains in the arses? _Arwen asked and Galadriel couldn't help but to fall into her blankets, slightly muffling the elven words that came next.

_I've only known them for a week, and they've already made themselves nuisances to me._

Arwen didn't respond, and instead hoisted Galadriel up and began doing her hair, nestling into the girl's warm blankets herself as she created an elaborate braid. Galadriel watched with interest as the Elven woman weaved her hair in so many directions. However its outcome was beautiful. She turned to thank her, but only found a note on her pillow.

**Courtyard, slightly north of the garden outside your window.**

** It's obvious what Arwen's note was suggesting, but can anyone guess why Legolas was interested in Galadriel's necklace?**

**I'm sorry this was short, but I've had a lot of work to do recently. I'm juggling a few unpublished stories. I will set up an updating schedule one day, but today is not that day. Please review and post any suggestions!**


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